


A Soothing Voice

by Tehri



Series: Memories of Home [8]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Bilbo is sneaky, Bilbo's childhood memories are his happy place, Elves suspect nothing, Thorin has probably never been so relieved to hear someone speak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 08:48:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2845070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tehri/pseuds/Tehri
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Scuttling through the halls of the Elvenking of Mirkwood, Bilbo has finally managed to find where the leader of the Company is kept prisoner. Thorin, on his part, had never actually expected to hear the voice of a friend again.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Soothing Voice

_“A story, da! Tell me a story!”_

_Bungo couldn’t help but laugh as he picked up his son, just turned nine years old, and carried him towards his bedroom._

_“Oh, but I told you a bedtime story yesterday, did I not?” he asked, raising his eyebrows at the laughing face of his little boy. “Since when must I tell you bedtime stories every day?”_

_“Please, da, please!” Bilbo clung to his father and pulled briefly at his hair, not noticing how the older hobbit winced. “Please, just one! Can’t you tell me just one story?”_

_“I don’t know, Bilbo-lad,” Bungo hummed as he set the child down on the bed. “Didn’t you say just the other day that you were too old for stories now? You’re nine, after all.”_

_Bilbo puffed up his cheek and glared at his father._

_“But you said that’s not how it works,” he protested. “You said that you knew I’d be asking for stories anyway, so it didn’t matter how old I was!”_

_“He’s got you cornered, love,” Belladonna said with a bright grin as she stepped into the room and wrapped her arms around her husband. “You did say that.”_

_“Whose side are you on?” Bungo asked with a chuckle. “Yes, yes, I’ll tell you a story, little bunny, but you’ll have to get ready for bed first. Go on now, hurry up.”_

_It didn’t take long for Bilbo to pull off his clothes (with a little help, after getting tangled in his braces), put his nightshirt on and crawl into bed. Soon he was bundled up under the blankets and gave his father a hopeful look._

_“Let’s see, what could I tell you tonight,” Bungo said slowly, tapping his chin with one finger. “You did like the one you heard last night…”_

_“It was funny,” Bilbo giggled. “With the glove and all the animals.”_

_“How about the story of the wolf and the seven little goats?”_

_“Yes! Tell me, tell me!”_

_“Very well,” Bungo said. “Once upon a time, there was a nanny goat who had seven children, and they all lived together in a small house in the woods.”_

_“Ah, yes, one poor woman alone with seven children,” Belladonna sighed as she leant in and kissed Bilbo’s forehead. “I’ve such a handful with you, my little bunny, that I can’t imagine more than one.”_

_“Now, who is telling this story?” Bungo asked, shooting his wife a smirk. “If you want to listen, you might as well sit down.”_

_“Of course I want to listen!” Belladonna grinned back and sat down on the edge of the bed, gently trailing her fingers through Bilbo’s hair as he swatted at her hand._

_“Mama, quiet,” the child grumbled. “Da’s never told this one before!”_

_Bungo laughed and continued the story, describing how the wolf tricked the goats and how the mother came to their rescue. Very soon, Bilbo was yawning and starting to nod off. Bungo and Belladonna both bade him goodnight, kissed his forehead and quietly left the room, closing the door behind them._

_“As though you could resist telling him stories,” Belladonna teased, kissing her husband’s cheek._

_“He’s the only child we have,” Bungo said, smiling softly. “He can have as many stories as he wants.”_

 

Bilbo stood pressed against the stone wall, hardly daring to breathe as the elf guard passed by him. There had been far too many close calls today, and it was starting to irk him a little bit. But what else was to expect when he was struggling just to stay awake? He hadn’t had a proper night’s sleep in days now, just quick naps here and there that were interrupted as soon as his ever alert senses informed him that someone was coming a little bit too close. Hiding under a table to sleep was only a good idea if anyone who sat down didn’t have a tendency to stretch out their legs. One of the day’s close calls had been due to that; an elf stretching out his long legs and accidentally kicking Bilbo’s arm. Bilbo had only just managed to scuttle away before the elf started to try to figure out what he had hit.

As grand as the Elvenking’s halls were, they were certainly not what Bilbo would have liked to call homely. Beautiful? Of course. Elvish? Considering the inhabitants, yes. But homely? No, to Bilbo that word meant a lovely little smial with a warm hearth, a well-stocked pantry and a soft bed with a lovely feather-pillow and blanket waiting after dinner. Rivendell had been homely, though it hadn’t been a hobbit’s smial. These caves, combined with the never-ending sneaking and lack of sleep, somehow reminded him of the goblin tunnels.

They had been fools, he couldn’t deny that. Seeing lights in the forest had made their hearts fill with hope again, and in their desperation for food and warmth they had left the path. Thrice they had attempted to approach the feasting people, and failed. Finally, the racket had apparently alerted the spiders, too, and Bilbo was not all that keen on remembering that he was the only reason to why his companions still lived. Luring gigantic spiders away from their prey had definitely not been in the contract. But his friends lived, and that was the important part. They lived, and they had been captured by elves. Elves who seemed very determined to keep them in their cells until they sang like birds.

_They live_ , Bilbo thought bitterly. _Yes, they live and they no longer starve, but we’re one dwarf short still…_

Thorin. Thorin had disappeared after the last attempt with the lights in the forest. They hadn’t noticed at the time – not until they had escaped from the spiders had Dori suddenly realised that their leader was not amongst them anymore. Bilbo would never in all his life be able to describe the moment of terror when he though that he might have left the grumpy dwarf in the webs of the spiders. But no matter how carefully he considered the situation, he hadn’t seen more than twelve bundles up in those trees, and twelve dwarves had been with him then.

Now he finally knew. After lurking about in the Elvenking’s halls for some time, he had managed to find each and every cell that contained a dwarf. And one day, he had heard two guards speaking to each other, and speaking of yet another dwarf that they kept in the deepest and darkest cell available.

 

That was where he was headed as he scuttled down the dimly lit corridors, trying to find his way and trying to remember where he had been.

_If my da could see me now_ , he thought. _He’d have a fit. Honestly, this is the worst idea I’ve ever had…_

Bilbo stopped and frowned. The corridor split in two. There was no indication of which way he ought to take.

“Well, this is just perfect,” he murmured as he scratched the back of his head. “Now what? I could of course check both, but that might take too long…”

He paused and listened. There was the silent sound of jingling metal down one of the corridors, and he quickly pushed himself up against the wall again. He could practically hear the voices of his parents echoing in his head, chiding him for being careless and making noise at the wrong time.

Two more elves came through the corridor, chatting calmly with each other.

“I cannot see why our king would keep that dwarf here,” said one. “All he does is glower and glare and grumble in their strange tongue. I don’t know what he said, but I can promise you that it was an insult.”

“Of course it was,” the other laughed. “Since when would dwarves know to hold their tongue?”

Bilbo waited with bated breath until they had finally passed and the jingle of metal (keys, he thought) had faded. To the right it was, then. He hurried down the corridor, taking his time to check every possible door.

_It has to be around here somewhere_ , he thought when he approached the last few doors in the passage. _Oh, what will I do if he’s not here?_

Then he heard it. Filtering into his panicking mind came the sound of a low humming; words in a language that he couldn’t understand, but which was so very familiar by now, and a voice that he felt utter relief at hearing. He snuck over to the last door, shooting a quick glare at the small barred window that was far too high up for him to reach.

“Thorin?” he hissed, smiling faintly when the humming instantly stopped. “Thorin, is that you?”

A heavy silence followed his words. For a moment Bilbo thought that he might’ve imagined it all, but then a response came from within the cell.

“I’ve been in here for too long,” Thorin’s deep voice said. “Far too long, if I’m hearing voices of my companions…”

“Thorin, come over to the door,” Bilbo said, daring to speak a little louder for a moment. “It’s not your imagination, I promise you. I’m really here.”

Slow and heavy footsteps approached the door, but the cell’s occupant didn’t speak. Bilbo sighed and shook his head.

“I know it’s hard to believe, I can scarcely believe this myself,” he whispered. “But Thorin, I swear to you, I’m really here.”

“Bilbo,” Thorin breathed. “Bilbo, how in Mahal’s name…”

“Long story, and for now I’m just glad I found you. The others are in cells higher up in the halls, I didn’t even know that you were here until the day before yesterday.”

“The day before-? How long have you _been_ here?”

“Ah…” Bilbo frowned and thought for a moment. “I think it’s been maybe a week? Could be a week and a half? I haven’t really counted; I’ve mostly tried to stay out of sight.”

“A week and a half,” Thorin sighed. “And I’ve been here at least a few days longer… Is everyone well?”

“As well as they possibly could be,” Bilbo replied softly, leaning heavily against the door. “I’m afraid we had a small adventure without you. The spiders got to us.”

“Sounds like there’s quite a tale there…”

Bilbo huffed a laugh and quickly clapped one hand over his mouth to dampen the noise.

“Really, there might be,” he said. “But there’s hardly time to tell it, there are guards everywhere.”

“Not here,” Thorin said quietly. “They give me food, ask if I feel inclined to speak, and leave me until it’s time for the next meal. No one comes down here during that time. I was given food just a while ago.”

The hobbit hesitated. On one hand, he could tell that Thorin was relieved to hear his voice and know that he was there. On the other hand, he was frightened of what would happen if someone came down there.

“Please, Bilbo,” Thorin urged. “Just… Speak to me?”

Bilbo chewed on his lip. He couldn’t recall Thorin ever sounding pleading before, but his memory provided him with several moments from his own childhood when he had begged his father for a story with the same tone in his voice. If he said no and left now, he’d be leaving Thorin to whatever dark thoughts he’d had these past days. It didn’t feel fair, not when the dwarf-king so often distanced himself from his companions before.

“Alright, then,” he sighed. “Since you said please.”

He smiled when he heard Thorin chuckle and so started to slowly explain what had happened in the forest after the last fire had been put out. Thorin listened carefully, occasionally coming with a question. Bilbo answered as best he could, a little uncertain of just how much was appropriate to actually tell him. But Thorin was insistent on hearing all that had happened since they were separated, including the tale Bilbo had told the others of how he found his ring.

“So it turns you invisible,” Thorin said, sounding quite impressed. “That’s how you’ve managed to sneak about for so long without getting caught.”

“Well, it’s difficult in areas with much light,” Bilbo explained. “I still cast a shadow, you see, so I have to stick to the darkness if I want to be sure that no one will see me.”

“Truly, master Baggins, you are a wonder.” Thorin laughed softly. “Perhaps all is not lost yet… Do you have an idea of how we are to escape?”

“I… No, no, I don’t. Not yet.”

“See what you can find. We need you now, Bilbo, and you’ve proven your ingenuity before.”

Bilbo stared at the door for a moment. This wasn’t quite what he had imagined would happen when he found the last of the dwarves. But he _was_ the only one not in a cell, and thus the only one who could possibly get them out of this mess.

“But didn’t you say that the king only wanted to know what we were doing here?” he asked helplessly. “What if you just-“

“No, I will not barter with Thranduil,” Thorin growled. “That elf is a serpent. He will not let us go so easily.”

“Thorin, I’m really not sure that I can do this alone. Please, at least consider-“

“I have considered. I trust you, Bilbo, I know you can do this. You will have earned your reward a hundred times over.”

“I don’t care about a reward, Thorin, I just do not want to be here. I’m just a hobbit. What am I supposed to do? Find a way to keep the gates open? As far as I can tell, they close by magic, and once they’re closed you can’t get them open. I don’t know if there is another way at all!”

“Listen to me, Bilbo,” Thorin said gently. “You may be just a hobbit, but you’ve avoided capture so far. You saved my kin, and you’ve wandered these halls without being noticed. Please, for our sake, at least try. If you don’t find any way, then we will barter for our freedom. But only then.”

Bilbo shivered and shook his head. He couldn’t say no now.

“I’ll try,” he said meekly. “I’ll try, but I can’t promise anything…”

Thorin was silent for a moment, and Bilbo almost thought that he’d been dismissed when the dwarf’s rumbling voice sounded again.

“There’ll be guards here soon to give me another meal,” he said. “Wait here until they’ve left again.”

“That’s dangerous,” Bilbo protested. “Look, I still make noise, they’ll notice-“

“You’re exhausted,” Thorin interrupted. “You need to sleep for a while, and you may as well do it here, in relative safety.”

“What, do you expect me to magically squeeze past the guards and into your cell?” Bilbo gave a weak chuckle. “I don’t think that’s possible.”

“There are blankets for the cot in here. I could pass them to you through the window, and you could rest in the corner until the guards come again. I’ll wake you when it’s time, and you’ll pass the bedding back to me. They’ll never notice, Bilbo, I swear.”

It sounded a little too good to be true. But it could very well be the only chance he’d get to rest. Bilbo groaned silently.

“Fine,” he breathed. “Fine, that’s… That’ll work. Just… how do you plan to wake me?”

“Loud noises should do the trick,” Thorin hummed. “I’ve kicked the door before; the elves won’t question something like that.”

Bilbo smiled faintly. Loud noises definitely did the trick nowadays, or someone speaking a little louder than normal. He didn’t dare to sleep too deeply. He sidled into the corner and sat down to wait, and soon enough he could hear the jingle of metal as the guards approached. He tried not to move or make any audible noise while the elves that came around the corner got the door open, gave Thorin the food they had brought and took away the bowl from his previous meal.

“Not feeling inclined to speak yet, dwarf?” one of the elves asked coolly. Bilbo could easily imagine the glare directed at him, the very same glare that the hobbit had gotten after the business with the trolls. Thorin snarled something in Khuzdul, something that sounded suspiciously like a rather grave insult, and the elves shrugged and closed and locked the door again. There was no use in badgering the prisoner. With quick steps, they disappeared down the corridor again, and though Bilbo could hear Thorin moving closer to the door as they left, he didn’t dare to move until every noise had faded.

“I hate it when they’re so close,” Bilbo groaned as he staggered to his feet. “They’ve got such good hearing - it always feels like they know where I am.”

“They’re too sure of their safety,” Thorin replied. “Now get over here and I’ll pass you the blanket.”

Bilbo stumbled over to the door, staring expectantly up at the window. There were shuffling noises inside the cell, and a moment later the end of a large blanket appeared.

“Lower,” Bilbo said. “I can’t reach it yet.”

“I can’t reach much better than you,” Thorin grumbled, but he did what he could to get the warm cloth within the hobbit’s reach. Soon enough, Bilbo had pulled it out of his hands.

“Are you sure you don’t need it?” Bilbo asked nervously. “I could probably make do…”

“Get into the corner and sleep,” Thorin replied. “I shan’t sleep for some time yet, and you need whatever rest you can get.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Bilbo wrapped the blanket firmly around his shoulders and simply laid down with his back pressed against the door.

“I’ll stay right here, thank you,” he sniffed. “Might help a little when you’re supposed to wake me. Besides, I don’t mind talking for a bit.”

Thorin chuckled softly.

“I don’t know what you’d wish to hear,” the dwarf said. “I’m afraid that I don’t have many stories to tell.”

“Anything,” Bilbo replied, smiling to himself. “Maybe something about Ered Luin? Or something from when Fili and Kili were little?”

He felt almost like a fauntling again, begging for a bedtime story; but Thorin chuckled and obliged, launching into the tale of how Kili at first became interested in using a bow. Bilbo closed his eyes with a warm smile and listened to the soothing sound of Thorin’s deep rumbling voice. It didn’t take long for him to drift off to sleep.

 

Bilbo woke with a jerk at a loud bang behind his back. He flew up on his feet and quickly looked around.

“Wh-what now?” he gasped. “What now?!”

“Almost meal-time, that’s what,” Thorin hissed. “I’m sorry for waking you so suddenly, but I’d rather not have them discover you here.”

“Right, right,” Bilbo mumbled, quickly gathering the blanket. “Ah… How do I… I can’t reach up…”

“Give me a moment.” There came a scraping noise from inside the cell, the sound of wood (perhaps the cot) being dragged over stone; a moment later Thorin’s face could be seen through the bars. The dwarf blinked and stared, and for a moment Bilbo thought it was simply the reaction of not seeing anything but the blanket. Then he realised that Thorin was meeting his eyes.

“Bilbo,” the dwarf whispered. “Bilbo, your ring!”

The hobbit swore under his breath and quickly looked around to see if it was on the ground. He patted the pockets of his trousers and his poor ruined jacket and there, there in the left pocket, he found a small metal circle.

“Got it,” he whispered back. “I must’ve put it in my pocket when I slept…”

“Quick, toss me the blanket,” Thorin said, holding out one hand through the bars. “We need to be quick.”

Bilbo tossed the blanket to him, shoving one hand into his pocket to grab the ring while he watched the dwarf pull the blanket back into his cell.

“I need you to speak to the others,” Thorin whispered quickly. “Tell them that I am here, that I am safe. Tell them that no one is to give Thranduil what he wants, not unless I allow it. Not a word of Erebor is to pass over their lips, nor of our heritage.”

“Not a word, alright.” Bilbo nodded and went to put on the ring.

“Wait,” Thorin pleaded, and Bilbo paused and blinked at him. “Bilbo, do what you can to find a way out. But stay safe. Please, promise me that you will be careful.”

The hobbit stared at him for a moment. He could remember his father asking the same thing of him when he was younger and still wont to wander around in the Shire on his own, and a small smile spread on his lips at the thought.

“I’m a hobbit, Thorin,” he said. “We’re cautious by nature, and doubly so if friends or family are in trouble.”

With that, he slipped the ring onto his finger and snuck away, moving along the corridor as fast and silently as only a hobbit could. He’d do anything to help his friends now. No matter what ridiculous plan popped into his head, he would attempt it.

**Author's Note:**

> The stories at the beginning of this fic are stories that I heard via a children's TV-show when I was little. I don't know the English titles of them, and I only know that the one Bilbo mentions about "the glove and all the animals" is a Ukrainian story. They're sweet stories, and if you don't know them, methinks you should look it up. Or well, at least the story about the glove is sweet, the story about the wolf and the little goats actually gets kinda dark.
> 
> I chose to go with the book-verse when it comes to the Mirkwood-passage, mostly because I honestly prefer that. It adds a little bit of suspense.


End file.
